Sadist's Night
by kasviel
Summary: Slash Angel/Wesley Continuation of "Recompense". Wesley has found it harder to let go of his undead boss than he expected, but is unable to express his feelings. Acting out of frustration, Wes disobeys orders and risks his own life and Angel's soul.


**Sadist's Night**

A little time had passed since the tumultuous day Wesley had let go of ration and fallen for the vampire Angel. Thus far, Wes had managed to keep his promise of not getting clingy, but it had not been easy. Angel acted as if nothing had ever happened, going back to his normal, moody, silent self, and it bothered Wesley.

_Something **did** happen,_ he was thinking now, while leafing through some old texts. He looked up towards the door to Angel's office, where he knew the vampire was holed up in. _I promised. I promised Angel and I promised myself, that I would not get carried away. Not with him. Not with any man. I needed him that day, he was there for me, and he owed me the comfort. That's it._

_That should be it . . . _

Cordelia turned the love song on the radio higher. Wes glanced at her and exhaled through his nose, bending his head over the books again. _Why can't I let it go, then? Why do I keep going over that day again and again in my mind? Why do I keep fantasizing about him? Why?_

Cordelia suddenly patted his shoulder, and he jumped.

"Jeez! Take a break, bookworm," Cordelia told him. She handed him a doughnut. "Here."

He smiled, thanking her, and left the table. He stretched his arms, glancing again at Angel's door, and went to pour himself a cup of coffee. Cordelia was also easting, while reading a magazine. It was a slow day, anyway, not that a busy day would have made her any more productive.

"Cordelia?"

"Ugh, those shoes are seriously in this season?" Cordelia was muttering to herself. To Wes, she only responded distractedly, "Hmmm?"

Wesley glanced over her shoulder at the shoes out of curiosity, then asked, "What do you know about Angel and Buffy?"

Cordelia almost choked on her drink, then looked up at him in surprise. "Angel and Buffy?" With a cautious glance at Angel's door, she said, "They had a thing. Here."

It was Wesley's turn to choke, and he almost turned blue before choking down the piece of doughnut that had stuck in his throat. Cordelia tried to help by whacking his back, but it only almost made him choke on the coffee he swallowed. "Cordelia, enough!" he pleaded.

Cordelia lifted her hand. "Last time I save your life."

Wes gave her a look, then threw the doughnut into the trash. "Buffy and Angel had a . . . They were together here?"

"Yeah, but it didn't really happen."

Wes puzzled over this for a moment. Cordelia chuckled over his expression, then finally explained the day Buffy had visited; how Angel had sacrificed his one day of humanity to have his power back, and thus had erased the entire event, including his precious moments with Buffy (or, "doing it with Buffy", as Cordy so eloquently put it). When asked why Angel had done such a thing, Cordy shrugged, and said, "Guess it's just better being a vampire. . . . No. No, that's not right. He wanted to protect her, or something, not be a liability. Yeah, that was the word he used, liability."

Wesley chewed this over, drinking the last drudges of his coffee. _So, Angel had another last night with Buffy. At least, in theory, if not in the reality he altered. No wonder he barely protested having me._

Wesley sat down on the sofa again, staring at the floor. _He's given up on the idea of love. So, what is sex? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He had no qualms about it because it didn't mean anything to him._

Wes lay down over the sofa, now staring at the ceiling. _I knew it wouldn't be significant in his life, and I didn't expect it to be in mine. We're friends, and I needed him. Physically, I needed him. So, he gave me what I wanted. I asked for it, didn't I?_

_So why does it hurt like this? Damn it. Damn it!_

Wes turned onto his side, shutting his eyes, but not bothering to remove his glasses. _I'm an idiot._

He lay there, half-dozing, for some time. He heard Cordelia going out to buy some shoes, and thought to himself they were probably the ones she did not like, but were in style. With the office now still, silent, and warm, his half-doze turned to sleep in moments. Whatever muddled feelings he had about Angel left him, and he was grateful for the peace. The phone rang a few times, but he ignored it. There was a muffled voice, and he figured it had gone to the answering machine.

"Hey, Wesley."

Angel's voice shattered the peace a little after the phone ringing, and all those feelings came rushing back. For the first time ever, Wesley ignored him. Maybe Angel would just go and take all the emotional turmoil with him.

Angel frowned in surprise. He could sense the man was not asleep, but it was not like him to ignore . . . well, anyone. He leaned over Wes, shifted on his feet, and then said, "Wes?"

Wes took a long moment before deciding to acknowledge him with a weak, " . . . Hm?"

It had been deliberate, then. Angel playfully swatted his bottom with a folder. "Get up. Work."

Wesley blushed, groggily pulling himself up. He yawned widely, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and straightened his glasses. "Cordelia?"

"She's still out," Angel said. He gave Wesley a look. "Didn't you hear the phone ring?"

"Actually, no, I didn't," Wesley lied.

Angel gave him a look, and he averted his gaze. _Forgot vampires can smell anxiety and the emotions that make a lie obvious,_ Wes thought nervously. _Well, well . . . oh well._

"I need you to research this description," Angel told him, handing him the folder. "I'm meeting a potential client, but they have reason to believe we may have trouble with a demon or creature."

Wes took the folder, heading to get his large, ancient book of demonology. Angel waited in the doorframe of the room, arms crossed, watching him. Wesley could feel the man's eyes burning into him, but he didn't know what to do about it. _I should have controlled my temper,_ he thought. _I've been acting sullen, and now he's wondering why. Childish of me, careless._

"This is a tricky bugger of a demon," Wesley commented, sounding more like his usual self. "Yes, it is a native of this continent, the Weewilmekq: a giant green leech with a spear-shaped tail and curved bone horns." He glanced up from the book at Angel. "This is in the streets of LA?"

"The sewers, but it's been attacking through the manholes," Angel explained. "The client seems to believe it's targeting him."

"Could be a hex sending it after him, or his blood is very tasty," Wesley deadpanned, reading again. "It feeds on, obviously, blood, and--" He paused, then looked at Angel gravely. "--energy."

Angel was silent. Wesley could not tell if he was unworried or worried.

"This demon was used by the Native Americans to kill vampires," Wesley told him. "They can drain you to the point of death, Angel."

"How do I kill it so it doesn't, Wesley?"

Wes shrugged, running a finger down the page. "Break off the horns--" He grimaced. "--which are just inches above the mouth."

"Horns. I hate horns," Angel said wearily, getting some weapons ready.

Wesley shut the book and went for his messenger bag.

"Wait, where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going with you, of course."

Angel shook his head. "Not on this one. I know what to do."

"But--"

"I'll be fine, don't worry."

Wesley watched him head out, trying to think of a way to stop him. By the time he found his tongue, Angel was long gone. Wesley cursed softly, looking lost.

Angel faced death every night, and some days. He would be fine.

Wes' mind told him this, but an uneasy hung over him like a cloud. He looked at the demon's depiction on the page, and his lips tightened. Resolved, he retrieved his bag and a few things, and went to the notepad by the phone. Surely enough, Angel had scribbled down an address, and due to his great memory, had not taken the note with him. Wes snatched it, and headed out.

* * *

Angel had taken the sewers, so Wes took the car. It was evening now, dark enough for Angel to be out on the streets. Wes drove around the meeting spot, but did not see him, however. No client, no Angel.

Wesley parked the car and got out at the address on the note. The sewer manhole had been pried open. Wes pocketed the note and climbed down into the dank passages beneath. "Ugh, bloody hell," he remarked at the smell. "Angel?"

Someone ran into him, and he cried out. Then, his eyes met with Angel's.

Only, it did not look like the Angel his mind was so preoccupied with. His eyes were yellow, features distorted into a monstrous, demonic mask. Wesley paled, and backed a step away. He tried to say something, his mind knowing it was the same Angel, but the words stuck in his suddenly dry throat.

"Wes?" Angel's face contorted back to its normal, handsome countenance. He drew a breath, rubbing his face with a hand, and muttered, "You shouldn't have come here."

He climbed up the ladder to the street, and Wesley followed. "What happened? Did you find it?"

"I couldn't kill it."

Angel stumbled down the street, looking pained. Wesley tried to reach out an arm to him, but he jerked away. Upon reaching an alley entrance between two buildings, the man stopped, leaning heavily on the brick wall.

"Angel?"

The vampire collapsed to the street, clutching an arm. Wes ran to him and knelt at his side. "Angel!" He lifted Angel's sleeve, revealing a large, bruised bite. Wes drew a breath in fear, knowing what it meant. "Ohh . . . you've been--"

"Wesley, you have to go," Angel told him.

"I can't very well leave you here!" Wes pointed out. He tried to lift Angel up by an arm. "Come on, we have to get back to the office!"

"Wesley!" Angel grabbed him by the arm. "It's too far. Listen to me! Leave me. Just go."

Wes licked his lips, paling. "You're hungry, aren't you?"

Angel nodded wearily. His face rippled, threatening to twist back to its true form.

"We'll get some . . . some blood." Wesley looked around, and then tried to tug Angel to his feet. "Come on. We'll--"

"No!" Angel exclaimed. "Wesley, I mean it, get out of here!"

He got up, pushing Wes off, and stumbled down the street. Wesley was afraid. No, he was terrified. Having confronted Angel's vampire side so recently, the pain and horror of the his true nature was still fresh in his mind. He took a step towards the car. Angel had survived before. All he needed was a small bite, or to rob a hospital, grab a transfusion bag. He could probably make it.

_But if he can't control his hunger, 'making it' could mean his killing someone,_ Wesley thought. _That act could kill him in a more significant way than starving to death._

Wesley came up under Angel's arm, supporting him. "I'm not leaving you," he said firmly. "My apartment isn't far. We'll go there, and get you fed."

"Wesley, damn it!" Angel shoved him so hard he went flying across the street. "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

Wesley hit the pavement hard, looking up at him in hurt surprise. Angel's face went human again, traced with misery and confusion. However, he continued to shuffle off without a word. Determined, Wesley stood and ran after him.

"No. No! Listen to me, Angel," he said, grabbing the man by the arms. "I'm not leaving you like this."

"Wes, please, _please_ . . . " Angel swallowed, breathing hard. He hit the brick wall of the building they were beside. "Damn it, you don't know how I feel right now." He gave a bitterly amused grunt. "How could you? You've never been burned through your entire body by hunger, pure . . . " He looked at Wesley, eyes yellow again, face distorting. " . . . strong . . . _animal_ . . . hunger . . . "

Wes watched Angel's gaze fall to his throat, and he froze. Pure, animal _fear_ struck him, rooted him to the spot. Tears jumped into his eyes, but he fought them back, and choked down the fear enough to find his voice. "Angel," he said in a hoarse whisper, "you won't hurt me."

Angel moved so fast that Wesley didn't even realize what had happened until he was against the wall. The pain of being slammed sunk in, and he struggled uselessly beneath Angel's hands. "Ngh. Angel, you won't--"

"Why won't I?" Angel breathed. "Because I have a soul? Damn the soul, I'm **hungry**."

"Angel, this is not you," Wesley said firmly. He swallowed, lifting his face stubbornly. "You have more control than that."

Angel's breath was hot on his neck, and it took every impulse to not scream.

"Control? Yeah, you're all about control, aren't you? At least, you pretend to be." Angel licked his neck. "You don't want me to be as rigid and repressed as you, Wes. You _want_ me to lose control. You _want _me to hurt me."

Wes shut his eyes. "Angel, this isn't you."

Angel's body pressed close behind him, and the razor teeth grazed his neck now. Wesley braced himself, flinching. The heat and closeness rushed through him. Behind the terror, there was an eroticism in the vampire's touch, his salivating presence. Wes frowned slightly, wondering if Angel's words held truth.

_Did_ he want . . .

The flesh tore, and Wesley gasped in shocked pain. He would have screamed, but he went weak, feeling the hot liquid flowing out of the wound. Angel's tongue licked at the tear, cool and sticky with blood. Wes' hands curled into fists against the wall, fingernails scraping the rough brick lightly, and he felt his body leaning into the bite, into the vampire's body. Angel's hands moved from his shoulders, down his arms, and gripped Wesley's hands in his own. Wes clung to his hands, but they were cold, like ice. As the stillness of the night began going dark before his eyes, Wesley wondered vaguely, almost idly, if he might die.

The blood slowed to a trickle, and Angel's mouth slid away from the wound. His grasp on Wesley's hands went soft, gentle, and Wesley had a feeling his face had smoothed to human features again. He might have looked back to check, but he was too weak. He stepped back from the wall, bumping into the other man, and felt himself falling back . . .

Angel caught him, holding him close. Wes looked up at him feebly, and was shocked to see tears in the vampire's dark eyes. He tried to say something, but could not. Angel lifted him off the street, carrying him like a child in his arms.

By the time he was laid down in the back seat of the car, Wesley was unconscious.

* * *

Wes woke up in his bed at his apartment, sans shirt, and with his neck bandaged. Angel was standing by the window, staring out at the night. Wesley pulled himself up, and Angel turned to him. Wes gave him a smile, but it faded once he realized the grave, stern look on Angel's face. The anger blazing in his eyes made Wes cringe more than the wound on his neck.

"Are you okay?" Angel asked, restraining the obvious emotions he was feeling.

"Yes." He touched the bandage. "Smarts a bit, but it was barely a nibble."

Angel inhaled sharply, as if he had been struck. _Wrong choice of words, too casual_, Wesley chided himself. He paused for a moment, getting his glasses from the nightstand and putting them on. Through his cleared vision, Wes realized just how worn and pale Angel was.

"Are _you_ okay?"

"No." Angel got his coat from a chair he'd thrown it over and put it on. " . . . I only came to see if you would be all right."

"No, don't go." Wesley moved aside the sheets and climbed down from the bed. He frowned a little. "How did you get inside, anyway?"

"Your last invite stands, and since we were lovers . . . " Wes touched his shoulder, and he went stiff. "Don't."

"I'm not angry, if that's what you're thinking," Wesley told him. "You couldn't help it. You were dying."

"Wesley--"

"It's okay."

"Okay?" Angel laughed incredulously. "_Okay_? Are you insane? I COULD HAVE KILLED YOU!"

Wes jumped back at the roar, stumbling into the foot board of the bed. "Angel . . . "

"What I am is not a joke, it isn't this kinky thing, and it isn't meant to be tempted!" Angel shouted at him. "I told you not to come! I told you not to stay! You had to leave when I told you!"

"I was worried about you. You could have died!"

"Better than killing you."

Wes lowered his eyes, looking like a scolded child.

"Do you have any idea what that would have done to me?" Angel asked. "Do you? Why did you stay, Wesley? Why did you _really_ stay?"

_Why did I?_

"I . . . " Wes sighed. "I don't know."

"Same reason they all draw near, same reason they all linger," scowled Angel, pacing. "Intrigue. Eroticism. Desire." He stopped at the window, then turned back to Wesley. "If you wanted me again, all you had to do was ask."

Wesley looked up in surprise.

"Not this." Angel bowed his head, rubbing his forehead with a hand. "This shouldn't have happened."

"It's all right, I'm f--"

"No you're not."

Angel contorted his face, and Wesley looked away with a shudder.

"See?" Angel returned to normal and shook his head. "You're terrified. . . . You're terrified of me."

Wes opened his mouth to deny it, but found he couldn't. He shut it again, and sat down on the edge of his bed. Angel turned to him, watching him for a moment.

"Aren't you going to say it?"

Wes glanced up. "Say what?"

Angel's face twitched. "That you're sorry?"

Wes shook his head. "I'm not sorry," he said certainly. "It was not as big a catastrophe as you make it out, and you might have died had I not been there."

"You're not sorry?" Angel asked incredulously. He lifted Wes' face up to his own by the chin. "Not at all?"

Resolved to be more certain of himself, Wesley met his eyes. "No," he said firmly, "I'm not."

"Really?" Angel sat down beside him on the edge of the bed, a strange look in his eyes. He pressed on the bandage, watching Wesley flinch. "This is nothing compared to what you put me through tonight, but you're not sorry?"

Wes slid an inch away from him. "No." He went to stand, but Angel's hand caught his wrist. Wesley smiled anxiously. "Angel, you're really overreacting. I'm fine, you're fine, let's simply put it behind us, shall we?"

"I was thinking the same thing, Wes."

Angel yanked Wesley clear over his knees. Wes' jaw went slightly ajar, glasses nearly falling off. _Me and my big mouth._

"Angel!"

"You don't get to decide the rules, just because we had one night together, Wesley," Angel told him, hastily pulling down the man's slacks. "You work for me, or have you forgotten that?"

"We work _together_," Wes pointed out, turning red. He tried to pull himself up, but was held down by Angel's hand on his back. The jerk almost made his glasses fall off again, and he had to push them back up. "This is ridiculous! I'm not a child!"

"Working together is listening to what the other says," Angel told him. "Tonight had nothing to do with work, Wesley, and you know it."

It was true. Wesley squirmed as he felt his backside being bared. "A-Angel, please . . . "

"I pleaded with you to leave, didn't I? And did you listen to me?"

"Angel . . . "

"That answer would be 'no'." Angel brought his hand down on the man's naked skin, the slap resonating loudly in the apartment. His eyes narrowed coldly as the man yelped beneath him, and he began to strike him in steady succession. "You didn't hear a word I said."

Wes' eyes went wide as he hung helplessly over the man's lap, stomach turning with butterflies of embarrassment. Angel's palm was perfectly flat and hard, like a board might be; the fast slaps quickly became hot and unbearably painful. Wesley swallowed, lips pressing together in an effort to keep from crying out (or just plain crying). It was strikingly familiar, all of it, and the memories alone nearly made it intolerable.

"You scared me," Angel scolded his errant employee. "I thought I was going to murder you, right there in the street. Damn it, Wesley!"

He struck harder, somehow, and Wes yelped despite himself. His hands grasped at Angel's leg, and he could feel the tears starting to fall. "Stop . . . please, Angel, please stop . . . " he begged, burying his face in the man's pants leg.

Angel looked torn, but he did not relent. "I'm not losing anyone else."

Wes covered his face with his hands, and began to cry. "O-oh, Angel . . . " he stammered. He was going to make another plea, but realized that he really couldn't defend himself. He had, indeed, disobeyed Angel, and put himself and Angel's soul in serious danger. The method might have been questionable, but Wes could no longer deny deserving punishment. Deep down, he was also aware that Angel could do much worse than this; he was going easy on him, using a lover's (or child's) discipline.

"I **won't** let you get yourself killed, too."

Wes knew what Angel had been trying to say: he did not want to lose Wesley the way he had lost his first employee here in LA, the half-demon Doyle. _Of course he was terrified, he's already lost an ally, and a friend,_ Wes thought through a flinch. _I'm such an idiot. I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner._

"I'm sorry."

Angel let up for a moment. He had heard the words, but demanded to hear them again. "What was that?"

"I'm sorry," Wes repeated quietly. "You were right, I . . . I should have considered you. I should have gone." He nodded, sniffling. "You were right, and I'm sorry."

Angel looked down at him, eyes searching the man's trim, mortal, trembling figure. Now that the outrage was fading, Angel began to feel pleasure. He was pleased by the bright red hand prints bruising over on Wes' upturned bottom, excited by the smell of fear and humility. _I missed this control . . . so much . . . _

Wes felt Angel's hand squeezing his bottom; it was not a comforting touch, rather a cruel one. "A-Angel?"

Angel suddenly felt like he was in another time and place. The person on his lap was smaller in height, and bigger in attitude; he was kicking wildly, swearing with a violent fury . . . until he broke down and cried. The sobs were music to Angel's ears . . . to Angelus' ears.

_'You're the one who betrayed me! How dare you punish me! How dare you!'_

_'I dare, S--- '_ The memory of the name brushed like a whisper, piercing Angel's heart. _'How dare **you** deny me the pleasure of hearing you squeal [SMACK]. Apologize for me, S----, baby. Go on. **Cry** for me.'_

The loud wails were a victory, an apology which needed no words. Angelus smiled cruelly, continuing to punish his captive. The reasons didn't matter anymore, only the triumph, only the desire to _hurt_. It felt so good to hurt another, to see their pain unrestrained and humiliatingly raw.

"Aaagh! Angel!"

Angel's mind snapped back to the present. Wesley was thrashing beneath the spanking he had continued without noticing. While his mind recognized Wesley and the reasons he was punishing the man, his body would not stop, and the self-satisfied smirk did not leave his face. The truth of it was, he did not want to give this up yet. He wanted to thoroughly break the man down, then look into his eyes and drink in the misery of the painful impression.

"I am sorry, Angel, I truly am," Wesley sobbed in a small voice. "I'm sorry."

This was not the defiant, hateful vampire from the memory, but a soft, fleshy mortal. Angel began to slow the whacks, trying to break his mind out of the enjoyment enough to regain empathy. True, it was deserved, but Wesley had already surrendered his pride to the apology. He was not cursing or fighting or making threats. He had taken all he could, and was defeated. It was enough. **Enough**.

_I miss Spike._

That one, truthful thought was enough to stop the spanking cold. Angel's hand froze midway to Wes' reddened backside, as his reason came flooding back into his mind all at once. _That moment of being without soul due to the drugs affected me more than I ever thought it would. I've been slipping ever since. I thought I was just being there for Wes when I agreed to have sex with him, but there was more to it than that._

Angel hesitantly laid a hand on Wesley's bottom, feeling the intensity of the heat, knowing how much it must hurt. _Here was another lost boy for Angelus to take advantage of. Here was another child to dominate. This one is such an easy mark, so ripe for bruising . . . I couldn't have turned him down, even if I had thought of a credible reason to. I wanted that day as much as he did, maybe more. I had been hungry, and it made me careless, easy. We entrapped each other, appealed to each others deepest needs and wants._

Angel released him, and Wes slid off his lap. He knelt at Angel's feet, sobbing into his hands. Angel watched him without a word for a moment, then put a hand atop his head, and drew him closer. Wesley buried his face in Angel's lap, crumbled.

"You brought out the worst in me twice tonight," Angel said softly. He lifted Wes' head by the hair to look at him. "You're lucky this was all you got."

Wesley winced, and was released. He removed his glasses, tossing them aside to the bed, and wiped his eyes. Unable to say anything else, he simply repeated pathetically, "I'm sorry."

Angel surveyed him, and then slid down to the floor in front of him. "Deep down, you know you aren't, Wesley." He stroked the man's bare shoulders, and met his eyes evenly. "You wanted me here, and I'm here."

Angel kissed him. _He's right,_ Wes thought in defeat. _I don't even care how it happened, so long as he's here . . . with me . . . _

Wes embraced him. "Rather pathetic, isn't it?" he murmured shakily.

"Not really." Angel chuckled and swatted the man. "Just kinky."

"That's a two-way street." Wes drew back from him, searching the man's eyes. "You enjoyed it, too. Didn't you?"

_More than you can imagine._ "No."

Wes frowned quizzically at him. "What do I make you feel, Angel?"

_Sadistic._

"Who is it I bring out in you?"

_My father._

Without replying, Angel drew him into a long, lingering kiss.

_Before I was ever turned, I was cruel. I enjoyed taking power over people, hurting people. I hated my father, but a part of me admired the way he could frighten me as a child, the things he could make me feel. I wanted to feel that, and eventually I did. After becoming a vampire, I wrapped my life around the exhilaration of being the abuser instead of the abused. I distilled and refined every impulse, every move, every touch, until it had become an art form._

Wesley stopped talking, and lost himself in the other man. They fell against the soft carpeting, writhing, feeling. Angel kissed upon the bruises lightly, causing the man to shiver.

_The best part was always finding a new lad to take over. Some were like Wes, conditioned into desiring a strict leader to latch onto by a harsh upbringing. They were taught to respect strength, and never got around to fully wanting to be the strong one, as I did. Soft and emotional, admiring . . . It always felt good to see that respect and fear in their eyes._

Angel looked pointedly into Wesley's eyes, and smiled, though only he knew the reason for it. Wesley responded with little kisses and caresses, trying to please.

_Then there were those other ones . . . _

Their bodies met, and Wes cried out in pain and pleasure. Angel smiled, though his mind started to wander.

_No, just **that **other one._

_Spike._

_Brash, cynical, angry. So, so angry. He needed my taming more than any of these lost little boys, and he both fought and relished it with more fervor than anyone else I've ever known. A lost child, yes, but such a passionate and intelligent one. I had to fight him to get him to submit, **force** him into it, and that made it all the sweeter. Looking up at me with those eyes . . . spitting out bitterly the contrite things I made him say . . . blushing, hating, enjoying . . ._

_Damn him to hell, he was sexy._

* * *

_'You were with her!'_

_'Certainly was.'_

_'Again!'_

_'Aye.'_

_'I told you! I told you I-- I-- She's not for you, damn you, Angelus! And you took her anyway! How can you be punishing me?'_

_Angelus paused, holding the younger vampire still across his knees. 'Well . . . you interrupted us.' With that, he continued striking the helpless one's bottom with the heated fire poker. 'Besides that, you've been labeled a serial killer, and I am sick of your tactless feeding habits.'_

_'Liar! You've been waiting for an excuse, you twisted sod!'_

_'Perhaps I have,' Angelus replied, sounding bored._

_'You're the one who betrayed me! How dare you punish me! How dare you!'_

_Angelus grinned, striking him with more zeal. 'I dare, Spike.'_

_Spike's scowl broke and he howled in pain. The hot metal seared his skin, undead or not, and left vicious marks._

_'How dare you deny me the pleasure of hearing you squeal [SMACK]. Apologize for me, Spike, baby,' Angelus said with a terrible smile. His eyes lit with triumph as Spike kicked and struggled helplessly beneath his grasp. 'Go on. **Cry** for me.'_

_Spike cursed him several more times, but Angelus only struck him harder. Finally, the new vampire broke down into agonized wails. His head bowed, and he gave the futile struggle up. Angelus beat him until his voice was hoarse from howling, and every inch of his arse was thoroughly bruised and welted._

_'You-you---bastard!' Spike cried in shame. 'You bastard!'_

_Angelus pushed him clear off his lap. Spike hit the floor hard, and crawled some distance away from him. Giving Angelus a furious scowl, he hugged his knees in the corner of the room, by the fireplace. There he sat, sulking and trying to stop himself from shaking with sobs, viciously rubbing his eyes with both fists._

_'A bastard, am I?' Angelus finally asked, getting to his feet. He came over to stand over the sullen young vampire, gazing down at him curiously. ' . . . You're insulted, humiliated--' He reached down and ran a hand through Spike's hair. '--but not afraid.'_

_Spike scowled, turning his face._

_'Maybe another spanking would fix that. What do you say?'_

_'Go to hell.'_

_Angelus knelt in front of him, reaching for his face. Spike turned away, twice, until Angelus caught him by the side of his face. Their eyes met, each sizing the other up._

_'Betrayal merits betrayal, no?' Angelus asked with a smug smile. He ran a finger down Spike's face, tracing the path of his tears. Then, he brought the finger to his lips and licked the salty wetness off._

_Spike watched him warily, not looking very impressed. 'Get off me, you bleedin' sod.' He kicked Angelus away and got to his feet, fumbling with his unbuttoned trousers._

_'That's right, fight me off,' Angelus laughed, completely unfazed by the kick. In an instant, he was behind Spike, having embraced him. He laughed more as the surprised man struggled and screamed for him to get away. 'Now, now, that's a bit of fun. Keep fighting, **William**, by all means.'_

_He kissed Spike's neck, and the struggling grew weaker. Spike searched the ceiling of the room, as his body began to give way to the soothing presence of the other man's touch. 'Bloody . . . lunatic . . . '_

_'Come now, don't be so difficult.' Angelus turned Spike around to face him, but held him in place by the shoulders. 'Why so angry, young one?'_

_Spike glared up at him, but then his resolve waned, and he averted Angelus' cold eyes. ' . . . I . . . I hate you, Angelus,' he scoffed. 'You're a high-handed prick.'_

_'And you're not, eh?'_

_Spike lifted his face haughtily. 'Hmph.'_

_'Ahh, I see it now,' Angelus remarked. He pulled the youth closer from the waist. 'You're simply not accustomed to being taken charge of, are you?'_

_That was it, and it showed from the burning fury that lit Spike's eyes._

_'Hahahaha! Well now, no father, no brother, no master to tame you, isn't that it?' Angelus laughed at him. 'Aren't you lucky to have met me, then?'_

_Spike scowled, though he was no longer fighting their closeness. He was not certain he could have fought Angelus off even if he had wanted to. Still, his eyes wandered to the fire pokers, and a few less submissive ideas began to form in his mind._

_Angelus rushed into a kiss, and Spike allowed it. Then, he smashed a metal bar over Angelus' head and threw him off. 'Bloody fool,' he spat at him. He knew it would be wiser to run while Angelus was down, but he opted for kicking at the man instead. 'What gives you the right? Eh?' He kicked him harder. 'WHAT!'_

_Angelus caught his foot and flipped him over in one fast motion. Spike hit the floor hard, winded, and stared up at the vampire. There was fear, but he ignored it, resigning himself to glower._

_'Insolent little brat,' Angelus scoffed, dragging Spike by the leg back to the table where he had first sat to beat him. 'I'll teach you to presume to fight me.'_

_Spike was thrown over it, one arm pinned to the small of his back. The thought of being struck filled him with dread, but he would rather die than let it show._

_'If it kills you, you **will** respect me.'_

_Still, Spike was not completely a fool. ' . . . Angelus.'_

_Angelus paused, metal rod just about to strike down. 'What?' he asked tersely._

_'I . . . apologize.'_

_Angelus stared down at him uncertainly. 'You're lying. Don't try to con your way--'_

_'No, I mean it,' Spike said matter-of-factly. He squirmed enough to look back over his shoulder at the other man. He was no longer crying, and gave Angelus a small smile. 'I'm not strong enough to fight back yet. I apologize.'_

_'But not for anything else, is that it?'_

_' . . . '_

_'You little brat.' Despite himself, Angelus had to smile. He considered, then struck the man twice, and threw the rod aside. 'Get up.'_

_Spike shakily stood, looking sheepish. Angelus looked him over, but before he could decide what he wanted to do with him, Spike jumped into his arms. The younger vampire kissed him furiously, viciously, biting the corner of his lip until it was bloody. Angelus was pleased and intrigued, and embraced him._

_They fell onto the table hard, violently tearing clothing off and biting and kissing. When Spike was getting a bit too forceful, Angelus was sure to slam him down beneath himself, lest he get the idea he could take charge through sex. Spike understood the gesture and grinned in amusement._

_'You know your place, lad,' Angelus warned him. He turned Spike onto his stomach, so he was bent over the table. 'Clear enough for you?'_

_'For--ahhh.' Spike gasped in pleasure as the vampire broke into him unmercifully. 'For the moment, Angelus,' he huffed._

_Angelus slapped his bottom, but Spike only laughed. Though he pressed into him all the harder for it, Angelus had to admit he admired the youth. He would be a challenge unlike any Angelus had faced thus far, and he greatly looked forward to meeting it._

* * *

It had been about a hundred years since that night in the 1800s, and Angel could still feel every sensation, every kiss, hear every word. Lying in bed with Wesley asleep on his chest, the vampire exhaled as he realized he would never forget it. He also remembered distinctly why he had given up his fetish for discipline, and his lust for men: it made him into a person he did not want to be.

_It has nothing to do with having a soul or not,_ Angel surmised. _I wanted to be my father **before** I died. I wanted to hurt others before I ever had the power to._

_I got my wish, didn't I? And now I can't give that power up . . .  
_

Angel moved out of the bed, leaving Wes alone. He retrieved his clothing and dressed. Forcing himself not to glance back at the man, he headed for the door.

"Angel?"

Angel stopped, but did not look back. "Go to sleep, Wesley."

"Where are you going?"

Angel exhaled. He heard the sheets rustle as Wesley sat up.

"Why are you leaving?"

Spike's words echoed in his mind, from a very rare, raw moment long ago . . .

_'You left me! Once you got your soul, you just up and vanished! Not a word, not anything! You louse of a Sire, I'll kill you!'_

"I had to." Angel frowned, shaking his head. "Have to."

"Why?"

Angel turned around and stared at Wes. "I hurt you, twice tonight, Wesley," he said wearily. "Doesn't that scare you?"

"No." Wesley shrugged. "Once, you couldn't help it. The other time, well, I . . . I suppose I deserved it, didn't I?"

His sheepish smile was painfully familiar. Angel swallowed, turning his face.

"You can excuse it away, but I can't," he said softly. "It's an old habit, and I fell back into it too easily."

"Angel . . . " Wesley pulled on some pajama pants and climbed out of bed. "This has nothing to do with your soul."

"No, it does, Wes," Angel told him. "It's everything to do with my soul. This _is_ my soul, that's what scares me."

"What do you mean?"

"I was like this before I ever became a vampire," Angel explained. "Cruel, sadistic. I wanted to be like my father."

"Oh. I see." Wes thought about it for a moment, then touched Angel's face. "But you weren't unnecessarily cruel."

"Are you kidding me, Wes?" Angel asked in surprise. "You're a grown man. Fine, you pissed me off and scared me half to-- . . . " Angel stopped, as he was already more than halfway to death. "You scared me. Still, there is no way either of us can pretend I had any right to punish you in that way. Come on, Wesley, you're too old for me to just spank you for a disobedience."

Wes turned pink. "T-true, nonetheless . . . " He smiled a little, looking uncharacteristically sly. "Well, you are my boss."

Angel raised his eyebrows. "You really _are_ a kinky guy, Wes." He tousled the man's brown hair. "Here I was thinking you were an uptight prude."

Wesley chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm not saying I particularly _enjoyed_ it," he murmured, a hand rubbing across his bottom. "It did hurt. Still does."

Angel was lingering close to him, his resolve to leave fading. "Wes . . . "

"But I deserved it," Wesley said simply. "I should have thought about the losses you've already suffered, and the sins you've already committed. Here you are, trying to make up for all the evils of the past, and I could have added yet another heinous crime to your already long list."

Wesley clung to the front of Angel's coat, snuggling against his chest. "You were right. I just wanted you again. But I didn't have the nerve to ask, or even let you know. I wasn't sure if you would . . . want me."

"So you acted like you didn't care."

Wes nodded.

Angel smiled distantly; another familiar trait, which had caused him much drama in the past.

_'Say what you mean, damn it, Spike! Enough of that stubborn pride, just tell me what you want!'_

"Wesley, can you do me a favor from now on?"

"Hmm?"

Angel tilted Wes' face up to his own. "Say what you mean. Okay?"

"Yes."

Angel kissed him tenderly, and returned to bed with him. They lay until morning, together, and the memories of the past were chased away.

* * *

"Boy, you two are late."

"Just woke up," Angel said, stretching in pretense.

"Car was giving me a little trouble starting," Wesley lied, going for the doughnuts and coffee.

Cordelia shrugged, then grinned. "Like the shoes?"

Surely enough, Wes recognized them from the magazine. "Yes, they're lovely," Wes told her. He flopped down onto the sofa, hard. Only Angel caught the discomfort that strained his expression, and as he passed by, he squeezed Wes' shoulder comfortingly.

"How did the case go, by the way?"

Both men lifted their heads as it dawned on them that for all the drama, they had accomplished absolutely nothing.

"Er . . . "

"Um . . . "

"Wow, we are never going to pay a single bill here!" Cordy complained. "Well, you're lucky, because the client called back." She handed Angel a paper. "They want to meet you here."

"I'll take care of it."

On the way out, Angel caught Wesley's gaze. He hesitated, but Wes just smiled.

"By all means."

Under the guise of reaching across for a cup of coffee, Angel leaned over the man. "Learned your lesson, hm?" he whispered.

"Quite."

Angel looked like he might have kissed him, but refrained. He wiped a little bit of powdered sugar from the corner of the man's mouth, and on the way out, Wes saw him licking it off his finger.

_I have a feeling that things have changed this time,_ Wesley thought to himself. He smiled a little, relaxing on the sofa with his feet up. _Not because he's given up, and not because I'm clingy, either. It's need, mutual and pure; that one sentiment . . ._

_No one wants to be alone._

**End**


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